Half a year has gone by. You have someone beside you, happier and living your life.

I do not think about you as much as I used to

As much as I want to write that sentence, I would lie to you. And to myself.

I still think about you. Not in the way how would it turn out differently, me and you happy together. Nothing like that, not ever again. The truth is, we are just like hell and heaven, we have nothing in common, we almost never agree on anything. If not, only one thing that we shared, we are agree to disagree.

I still think about you, I mean about our time. The time when you spent the night at my place, the time when you play the new HBO series and you pour the white wine into my glass. The time when I was in your place and watching the musical you like so much. Singing each words, surprisingly, you hit the notes correctly. What cannot you do exactly?

I still think about you, precisely when we were together, not together as couple or partner ( i do not dare to think such anymore) but just hanging out, spending each other times. When you talk about your family and your studies. When you talked about your last relationship. When we slept next to each other and talking and fell asleep. How you like to spoon someone next to you. Surprisingly, I liked it.

I still think about it, about what you felt, not towards me because I know clearly now. But how you felt at those moments we were together. How were you? Were you happy? Were you sad? Did you feel comfort? Did you feel unease? I think about such shenanigans a lot. Turn out maybe I am a monster. An insensitive monster that never really think about how you feel, egoistic because I didn't really hear what you want. I didn't care about your sincere emotion.

Did I have your consent, when I kissed you in your green sofa? Did I have your consent as I lied my head inside your embrace? Did I have your consent as I unbutton your shirt slowly and passionately? Did I have your consent when I cared your back, your chest. As I kissed your neck bones and slowly going up to your neck, your chin and your lips? Did I?

You must feel ashamed, disgusted and defensive. Slowly towards me. That's why i keep thinking about you, I'm so sorry, I wasn't really sensitive about your feeling and I'm sorry if I had embrace you without your consent. I'm sorry and I am too disgusted with myself.

I still think about it, about what you felt, about you and I mean about our time together. I feel disgusted about it, about what you felt and about our time together. I'm sorry, you deserve better not a monster like I am. I'm sorry.

I heard the last piece of art for today, the symphony from Tschaikovsky, I reflect to my own story. Here I am sitting with a wonderful cultivated man beside, sitting on the top of the podium, while writing this for you to read never. I see the one who were was the joy of and the sound of my day. Beside him sitting his new beau. I heard a lot about his new beau, but now i see it with my own eye. The letter that Tschaikovsky wrote to his friend reflected through his symphony. The burden of hiding sorrow overwhelms and comes through in his first act of Symphonie. The society he lived in, was not much of a change to the current society situation. He had to succumb his own despair and sadness. This was not because, he couldn't show it but because the society didn't want to see sorrow. The saddest part of it, he had to wrap it with in another sorrow, disguised by the name of marriage. I can see myself sharing the same emotion. I can see myself walking on his shoes. The joy, the disappointment, the despair of love. Love that couldn't dare to speak itself

Written while attending Aachener Studentenorchester on 13th of July 2017 listening on Brahm's Violin Concert D-Dur op. 77

It was still awkward and still nothing like before that "spill the coffee" accident. You were still starring into me with those goddamn beautiful blue eyes and I am still captivated in the deep of the ocean I saw. You still talking casually about your dream and future and little bit here and there about our past and I'm still deciphering every words and every action you did, trying to make nothing anything. With everything that I have, I'm trying to get over it; trying to move on and going on with my life. So far it is a slow progress. I'm still trying to stand on my own to feet. Slowly but sure.

You still have that skill, captivating me, word by word and I'm still trying to hide the fact that I kinda still wondering the "what if" possibilities.

"What if I met you few months back?""What if I didn't to pushy?"What if I didn't expect more than what we have?""What if I'm just grateful with what we shared?""What if I wasn't too greedy and egoistic?""What if I just giving up myself and waited for you?""What if I..?""What if?"

Just like you know how to read my mind, out of the blue you said…

"things will turned out differently, if we met few months back…" you said with a little laughter and strange mimic i couldn't decipher.

Are you being serious? Are you joking? Only heaven and hell know. Maybe you don't even know what you are saying, maybe you don't even care.

I gave nothing but a gaze, looking for little something that could help me to understand you.

How many months has it passed by? How many lovers declared their love and running away? Things should have been going back to normal, we shouldn't be awkward anymore. I should not be awkward anymore.

The first one hour was difficult for me. I didn't where to see, I didn't know how to behave, I didn't know how to respond you. The meet you again after this long time and after our seperation is strange. We ended thing little too harsh, no notice and cold end. For me to see you again and pretend that nothing ever happen is difficult. However, it is not the case for you. You talked Bahasa Indonesia with that funny impression, you still made that cringe jokes, you still had that tease and flirt and laughed. You are still you. Nothing seems have changed within you, apparently I changed much much more than you. As if I am a complete new person with you, but not in the good way.

Every night I wake up with heavy breathing and tears in my eyes. My dreams are always the same. Your eyes, your lips, and your smile are pictured perfectly in my head and it feels real. As soon as I wake up, however, it vanishes. I cannot picture it anymore. The picture gets hazy and covered by grief and lost. So, here I am, in my dark cold room, wondering where did I go wrong? Rewinding every memory I can remember, searching for my mistake. Could it be something that I said? – or is it something, that I didn’t say? Could it be something that I did? Something I didn’t do? Either way, I cannot find it out. No matter how hard I try to rationalize this, it is always my fault.

„Let it go“ – they say. Words are easily spoken, action, however, is harder to perform. I am hanging in between two fights, to let your spirit go away or to keep you in my heart? The faster I can choose between this option, the lighter my heart will be. Though, I am not the one who is holding the last card. I cannot choose, or truth to be told, I do not want to choose, not until you close the door and close it completely. If there is no clean cut, I will be always held on to that tiny – unrealistic—hope that you do still want me by your side and that maybe you acknowledge my presence. I will always hold on to that hope until I wear out my energy and become numb in the process.

I still hope your leaving was only the nightmare. The nightmare, I could wake up out of it pretty soon.

I am sorry, it is not you – it is me. I’m an overthinker.

Let us just be a ghost to each other. Let us just be a ghost to our past. I’ll let your ghost creeping inside my daydream and nightmare. Moreover, I’ll let your ghost disappears into the ether without any explanation – because maybe I’m worth none.

It was always being a day like this, where I’ll wandering with lots of thought. After that brief encounter, the feelings I have for you, it all mixed into one. What was that? So many questions pop into my head, uncluttered in the back of my mind. Right now, I cannot declutter it and once again you had me.

I wish I can talk it out with you, I wish I can be as nonchalant as you, as unburden as you, as cool as you or so it seems from the outside. I know my face made a weird gimmick when I saw you. At the second, I felt warm in my heart, I wanted to say hello, to ask how you doing, how were your papers, but I guess you didn’t want to encounter anyone right now, me in particularly and my ride arrived.

I remembered seeing you with a beautiful blond young woman, you were happy chatting with her. It might be nothing, but I was impulsive and took it as a sign, maybe this is it. The end of something, which never started.

I felt sadness, grieve and cold air between us. My cheeks burned, I wanted to cry, I wanted to grab you by the hand and invited you for a coffee or a hot cocoa, because I’d always want to share a cup of hot cocoa with you on this rainy day, but I had a feeling you don’t want to see me nor you want to have to do with me anymore.

Maybe my desire to closeness terrorized you, made you uneasy therefore you are slowly avoiding me. If it is so, I’m truly sorry, it was not my intention to make you anxious.

There’s something about the rain or the stormy weather that makes me melancholy but I find serenity in it. As if it washes my burden away, makes it all clear.

So maybe this “hello” or “hi” was our goodbye? At least I saw you that day and at least I had all the western world.

I have a hard time to fall asleep because you’ve been visiting me every night. It is not like I don’t like a visitation, it’s just hard to receive a company if you are not expecting. I never expected anything, but yet I fall hard, harder than I meant to. One’s said love is an option and they are right, I chose to fall for you, but I guess it is a tad too deep for my taste and now I cannot go back.

Dear Friend,
Since you’re always visiting me every night, there’s one thing that I expect you to do. I’ve been searching for the signs, for any hints every time you visited me. I would wake me in the middle of the night, just to find myself crying in the middle of the night. There is just one thing I wanted to know, will you please give me an explanation?

It is the first day of spring. You can hear the bird singing their first song, your garden has sprung beautifully, the garden is full of color, the flower has given their finest color, red, yellow and full of cherry-blossom. The sun gives its warmest ray, it brings out the vibrant color from your garden. The sky is clear blue, you see no clouds in presence. „Ah what a beautiful day!“ you say.

But you start seeing the wind changes its pace. From the horizon, you see the clouds are coming to your way. Slowly snowflakes start falling from the sky. Suddenly the weather is changing.

The snow is drifting, following the rhythm of the wind, back and forth, falling softly, slowly covering your garden. You see the snow, whether it’s big or small. The only thing that’s a matter that it is beautiful. They are dancing in the air, gracefully, inviting you to play with it in your garden.

…In no time, you’ll see the garden will turning white, they are covering your garden, they are hugging your garden, so tightly. They turn your garden into the white spacious canvas. What you’ll see is all white, but you don’t see it as boring nor dull, on the contrary, you feel calm alas you find serenity by just looking at it. The snow has been transforming your garden into a winter wonderland of your own. Yours and only your wonderland in the backyard of your humble house. They are beautiful, they are white and pure.

I know you want to play with them, it is so alluring to see a beautiful white garden without any footprints and so on. You want to play in your garden, you want to feel the snow and you want to embrace in the snow. So you grab your hat and your scarf, you put on your winter boots and you are rushing it outside. You cannot wait to roll around in the snow.

As you open the door to your garden, you feel the breeze of a cold wind but it doesn’t stop you at all. The breeze getting stronger as if it is warning you about the cold. Your cheeks are turning red from the kiss of the wind blows. Your nose is running, but you are excited like you were a child, who couldn’t wait to play with your new toy. Ahh, wonderful you think to yourself.

You start walking,

crash

crash

crash

you can hear the sound of the fresh snow as you step on it. Beautiful. You start running around, step on the snow, leaving your footprints everywhere. You are rolling around in it, you make a snow angel.

Ah you feel so happy but then you start to get bored, so you decided to go back to your warm living room, but before you are entering your house, you are looking around your garden and you see, that surround you are no longer looks like a blank canvas, instead you see your garden turns into mess, full of your dirty footprints from your dirty winter boots. Oh, and you are realizing that you the sound you hear when you step into the snow is actually the sound of snowflakes cracking into pieces. Every time you stepped into it, thousands of snowflakes are broken. You realize now that your winter wonderland is not as beautiful as before, it is no longer a white, pure, beautiful garden, instead, it turns into a big canvas with lots of brown fleck in it. Dirty. Ugly and no longer attractive to you.

You are sad about it, but let me tell you what, you are not sad, you are not sorry about it because as soon as you are already in your warm living room, sipping your warm fragrant green tea, you will forget about your sorry. Well sometimes you will look back to your garden through your big window, you’ll stare down to your garden and you’ll regret things you’ve done, but then what’s the big deal, crying over spilled milk? So you’ll move on. There will be another snowy day soon or in the next winter.

The snow will always be there and forgotten, your garden will never be the same again. It is waiting patiently for the sun to shines, melt everything. It is waiting for the spring to sprung, so your garden will be beautiful again, filled with color, which the snow will never be.